


Till our wide eyes burn blind

by orphan_account



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/F, Fluff, Pirates, honestly this fic is the most angst free thing i have ever written, yay its jessica the not so awful pirate captain and trish the runaway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5486750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Water splashes up against the hull and the sails roar in the wind. Lights dance from the cabin and she watches in awe and excitement, feeling her stomach twist familiarly when she spots the flag caught on the end of the mast, flapping desperately."<br/>Or the Pirate AU you didn't know you wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Till our wide eyes burn blind

**Author's Note:**

> Sweet christmas I am OBSESSED with pirates atm. So naturally i wrote a pirate Jess/Trish fic. It's very short but i may add more to the series if people like it. Title from Roman Holiday by Halsey.

Red carpet coils its way around the chair, winding with dust around the scuffed wooden feet. Nostalgia falls, in a way only years of old seat prints can describe and she utters phrases like a broken record, a script of some kind, as she waits with her shiny red shoes dangling, clinking together like champagne glasses.

The room itself is expensive, like the books and the lights and the girls dress. Old leather smells musty and scuff marks line the wall like toy soldiers, carefully scratched in uniform. The chair sighs under her weight.

She contrasts the room so effortlessly, eighteen years old and artificially blonde, her glow filling the emptiness of the house. Her fingers ache from clutching at the chair as her mother talks lowly in the next room and, she thinks, if the sea could just swallow her up perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard.

Painted through a wall her mother smiles hollowly, draining all the love in the room. Colour leaks like tear tracks onto the girls face.  

Reaching, arms outstretched, the girl holds her hand out to the window, shadowed by gold embroidered curtains. The sky reflects darkly on the tempered waves causing pyramids of light and shadows as the water dances menacingly to the horizon. Night air smothers, the moon is crashing into the sea and a candle burns hopefully on the windowsill, wax dripping like a waterfall.

The girl stops. Her hands are frozen, reaching, as she squints at the tiniest speck on the horizon. It approaches slowly, like an unsure animal, coming into focus as it moves. Water splashes up against the hull and the sails roar in the wind. Lights dance from the cabin and she watches in awe and excitement, feeling her stomach twist familiarly when she spots the flag caught on the end of the mast, flapping desperately.

Heart beating and hands shaking, she runs, past her obnoxious mother in the next room and up the polished stairs.

*

About two hours have passed since the girl watched the ship turn so it was hidden against the jagged cliff. Time is endless, a dried up desert and the girl is parched for something to make it bearable. Someone.

Absentmindedly, her hands fiddle with the silver clasp on her suitcase. She thinks about the man downstairs, twice her age and arranging their marriage with her mother. Closing her eyes, she lets the lump of loneliness eat at her throat and swallows down the acidity of months alone, a small girl in a big house. Nothing to do but dream of the sea and wait.

A sharp knock echoes from the glass of her window and the girl rushes towards it, almost tripping over the blankets strewn across her bed. She releases her breath with the latch and stands back as the window opens and someone crawls inside.

Her hair is dark and wild, matching her eyes which twinkle with mischief as her pink lips turn into a smirk. “Trish.”

The girl, Trish, smiles. “Oh my, if it isn’t the dread pirate Jessica Jones.”

 Saluting mockingly, Jessica grins. “Aye aye captain.”

“So,” Trish steps forwards, catching Jessica by the folds of her stolen admiral’s jacket and pulling her forwards. “Are you here to steal me away?”

Breathing slowly, Jessica softly kisses Trish, the moon behind them allowing their silhouettes to merge into one. “If her lady does desire it.” She teases the words rolling smoothly into the small gap between them.

Hesitating, Trish feels her breath catch in her throat and she steps away from Jessica’s warmth back into the shadows of the empty room. “I do, it’s just-”

“What?” Jessica smiles languidly, stepping forwards with the air of cockiness only a pirate can achieve. Slowly, her smile fades and she’s left defenceless, bare to all the doubt lurking under the floorboards. “Trish?”

“You left me.” Trish slumps down onto her bed, next to the bulging suitcase and tangled sheets. “You left me.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “And now there’s a man downstairs asking my mother if he can have me like it’s all some sort of game to them.”

“So we run.” Jessica promises, sitting down next to Trish, her hands making their way into her blonde hair, stroking comfortingly. “We run and we don’t look back.”

“She’ll still be here.” Trish breathes, looking Jessica dead in the eye. “I was so scared and you left me with her, in this empty house where nothing is real. Jess you were gone for six months and my heart was with you, leaving me as hollow as these walls.”

Jessica frowns, her throat closing at the thought of Trish empty and forgotten in the corner of a room. Her own fist clenches as she imagines Trish’s mother’s bruising hands, her temper and her poison. “I’m sorry.”

Sighing, Trish closes her eyes. “You came back though.”

“Of course I did.” Jessica leans down, placing another kiss on Trish’s lips. “I’ll always come back for you.”

Opening her eyes slowly, Trish smiles faintly. “So, about running away…”

“Malcolm is waiting for us as we speak.” Jessica nods. “Are you sure you want to do this, leave everything behind?”

“More sure than ever.” Trish grins. “Though there is one thing.”

“What?” Jessica notices the dangerous spark alighting her eyes.

“I just wish before we leave we give one final ‘fuck you’ to my mother.

Jessica’s blood runs hot, her heart picking up its pace as the swear falls from Trish’s lips. “And how do you suggest we do that?” She teases, knowing full well what Trish has in mind.

“Why don’t you guess?” Trish murmurs, leaning up to catch Jessica’ lips as if they are prized treasure, and pulling her down on top of her.

*

The next morning is blissful. They escaped an hour or so after they planned, but the sky was still dusted charcoal, the small harbour still stuck in slumber.

Trish wakes in a cabin. Stretching, she feels the rough sheets move against her bare skin and smiles. A vast expanse of blue stretches on outside a tiny porthole window, reaching out to her in return to how she used to long for it. There is a gentle rocking, and the wooden floors creak ever so quietly in time to the metronome of the ocean.

Jessica is gone, but if Trish listens closely she can hear her voice above the chatter of the crew outside, like the first note of a piano masterpiece. Standing up, Trish roots through Jessica’s draws in search of something to wear. She pulls on some trousers, a luxury her mother rarely let her have, and a shirt, before stepping out into the bright sunlight.

“Trish.” Jessica’s face lights up, and she walks towards her, eyes moving slowly across the clothes, taking in every wrinkle and shadow. “The pirate life suits you.”

“It’s barely started yet.” Taking Jessica’s hand, Trish leads her up to the edge of the ship, so that they can stare at the infinite miles of water and opportunity that sit, glistening in the morning sun. “We could go anywhere.”

Pulling Trish in closer, Jessica smiles. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“What?”

“The pirate life doesn’t suit you.” She pauses. “Freedom suits you.”

Shaking her head, Trish grins. “And they say you’re heartless.” She kisses Jessica softly, on the wooden floor of the old ship, at the point where the sky can’t differentiate itself with the sea. Leaning forwards, she moves her lips to Jessica’s ears and feels her hands slowly clutch at the shirt on her back. “ _You_ suit me.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna talk about Jessica and Trish, this AU, or just downright wanna stalk me im over at trishicatrash.tumblr.com


End file.
